


The Next Step

by VulpesOrion



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Hank Anderson Swears, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, Misunderstandings, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), They love each other a lot okay, and whether that is LOVE love or not is your call, can be read as romantic or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesOrion/pseuds/VulpesOrion
Summary: While he is happy for his friend, Hank dreads the implications of the new android rights legislation. Namely, Connor seems suddenly quite determined to move out as quickly as possible, and the idea of living alone again is... well, less than appealing.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 66





	The Next Step

**Author's Note:**

> A quick little fic because even if I may have Thoughts on the game itself, these two own my entire soul.

Hank got the news on his way back from a doughnut run. On the one hand, trying to surprise someone with their brain connected to the internet was nearly impossible. On the other hand, it was possible that Connor was too distracted by whatever was going on at the station to have noticed. Besides, even if he wasn’t the first to tell Connor, Hank still wanted to share this moment with his partner.

  
His hopes of being the one to deliver the news were quickly dashed as he entered the bullpen and saw half of the station clustered around the television. He shouldered his way through his coworkers to where Connor stood at the front, watching the news broadcast with rapt attention.

  
“… In a vote that took place just minutes ago, Congress has officially passed the Android Equal Rights act, which will entitle all androids currently living in the United States to apply for a social security number, register to vote, be paid wages equal to those…”

  
“Aw, hell, guess I was a little too late.” Hank threw up his hands in an exaggerated show of disappointment, then slung an arm around Connor’s shoulders and gave him an amicable shake. “Congratulations, Con. I know you guys have been working hard for this for the last couple of months.”

  
Surprisingly, Connor offered him only a thin smile and a polite “Thank you” before extricating himself to sit down at his desk.

  
“What’s eating him?” Hank asked Chris, who just shrugged.

“Not sure. He’s been kind of quiet all morning. Maybe he’s just in shock.”

“Hm.” Though it was Hank’s first instinct to check on his friend, the siren song of caffeine was stronger, and he headed into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee before getting to work. He flopped down in his desk chair and took a second look at his partner. Connor was studiously ignoring him, apparently intent on his work. “What’s up, Con? I’d have thought you’d be happy.”

“I am!” Connor replied quickly. “Happy, that is. This is very exciting news for everyone. I’m just thinking about the next step.”

“For Markus and everyone?” Hank sipped at his coffee thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess he isn’t really one to take a break. I’m sure he’s already got something big planned. Are you going to talk to him about it?”

“Yes,” Connor said, “but that wasn’t what I was thinking about. I was considering our deal.”

Hank furrowed his brows. “Deal?” The last deal he could remember making with Connor was regarding which of them should take out the trash.

“Yes,” Connor said again. “The law has changed, and according to our deal, now that the next logical step is apparent, I am to move out. Remember?”

The coffee suddenly sat cold in Hank’s gut. He remembered.

* * *

Snow sparkled slightly in the morning light. The sun seemed brighter than it had in months, but still not warm enough for Hank’s taste. He shuffled in place, folding his arms against his chest to keep his hands warm as he waited outside of Chicken Feed and wondered idly if Connor would be late. Or if he would come at all. Not that Hank doubted his friend’s intentions to show up, but… the world was not yet a safe place for deviants. As far as he could tell, few humans still remained in Detroit after the evacuation, and those who did tended to be android supporters. Still, Hank had heard reports of anti-deviant attacks had been reported around the city, perpetrated by a few anti-android stragglers who had insisted on staying in Detroit. The thought that a week ago he might have been cheering them on made Hank’s stomach turn. He would never admit it to him, but he had spent the last three days glued to his television and checking his cell phone every few minutes in the hope that Connor had called.

A slight shuffle alerted him to another presence. Hank turned and felt an instant rush of relief as he saw Connor approaching, safe and neat as ever in his CyberLife suit. Connor stopped short, and for a moment, the two of them just stared at each other. Hank smiled, and Connor gave him a lopsided grin in return. Then, before Hank could overthink it, he was closing the distance between them and wrapping his partner in a big bear hug.

Connor laughed – laughed! – and returned the embrace. “It’s good to see you, Hank,” he murmured.

“Good to see you too, kid,” Hank replied, drawing back and putting his hands on Connor’s shoulders as he looked the android over again. “In one piece, no less.” A gust of wind blew up, whipping up a fine powder of snow. Hank shivered. “Any chance we could catch up the car?” he added. “I know you don’t have to worry about it, but I’m freezing my balls off.”

Connor agreed, and two minutes later they were camped out in Hank’s ’95 Lincoln with the heat cranked up. Hank held his hands over the air vents and groaned contentedly as his stiff fingers slowly warmed. “So, what have you been up to, kid?”

“It’s been a very busy time,” Connor reported. “Organizing the refugees from the camps, negotiating with CyberLife for needed supplies, we are starting negotiations with lawmakers about legislation… It never seems to slow down. What about you?”

“Couldn’t be slower,” chuckled Hank. “Just been hanging out with Sumo.” Hank did not miss the way that Connor’s eyes lit up when he mentioned the shaggy St. Bernard, and he fought down a fond smile. Not really much for a burnt-out bum like me to do since I’m still on suspension.”

“Oh.” Connor’s face fell slightly. “Because of Perkins? I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for me…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Hank waived a hand dismissively. “Bastard had it coming. Besides, what with the evacuation and the sudden lack of android slaves, things are gonna turn a bit ugly for awhile. I’m surprised that Jeffery hasn’t called me back in already.”

“That’s actually why I called. Well, one of the reasons.” Connor’s words came out in a rush. “I intend to speak with Captain Fowler as soon as possible about returning to work at the DPD. In a non-deviant hunting capacity, of course.”

Hank arched an eyebrow. That, at least, explained Connor’s CyberLife getup. “So, what, you thought you’d ask me to talk to him for you?”

Connor made a motion somewhere between a nod and a shrug. “As his Lieutenant…” he said softly, and Hank couldn’t hold back a snort. They both knew that he hadn’t been a lieutenant in a long time, at least not a proper one. Connor gave him a sharp look. “You are his lieutenant,” he emphasized. “Your word would still hold weight. And as my… my partner…” Connor ducked his head, seeming to turn a little shy. “But only if you agreed, of course…”

Hank was floored. He had half-expected this conversation to be a farewell. Connor was free now to go on to bigger and better things, and had no reason to spend any more time around a washed-up old drunk like himself. The notion that Connor wanted to come back and work at the DPD, and as his partner again no less… It was almost too much for his old heart to bear.

“I’d be happy to go to bat for you, kid,” he croaked out at length, “but I don’t really know how much that’s gonna be helpful to you, since I’m not exactly on his good side right now. You’d probably do better to talk to him yourself.” Then, hating himself for questioning a good thing but unable to stop himself, he added, “I have to ask… Are you sure you wanna do this? I’d have thought you’d want nothing to do with any of that anymore. It’s the first day of the rest of your life and all that shit. You want to go right back into doing the same thing?”

“It’s important that I return to the department right away,” was Connor’s immediate answer. “Markus believes it’s important for androids to have a representative in law enforcement, someone to ensure that they we are being treated fairly. I was the natural choice, given that I already have ties to the police, and it’s literally what I was built to do.” The smile he gave Hank seemed just a little bit strained.

“And?” Hank prompted.

The smile disappeared, replaced with what seemed to be a genuinely puzzled look. “And what, Hank?”

“And what’s your other reason? You’ve clearly got something on your mind.” Hank tapped his brow to indicate Connor’s LED cycling a distressed yellow.

The deviant dropped his gaze and heaved a sigh. (Was that for show? Hank had never been entirely clear about whether androids actually needed to breathe.) “And… I need to help my people. I know it won’t take back all the harm I caused… before… but at least this is something that I am able to do. Maybe I can make up for it, even a little.”

Hank softened. “Connor… You know that wasn’t your fault, right? That was all CyberLife’s bullshit. They can’t hold that against you.”

Connor did not meet Hank’s eyes. The android’s voice fell to nearly a whisper. “It’s not even just that. There are other ways I could help my people. Markus wanted me to stay on as a negotiator, and while I will be happy to help with that in my spare time… Coming back to the DPD is what I want.”

“Huh.” Hank shook his head, amazed that this was somehow the same android who had so adamantly denied his ability to care one way or another just a few days ago. “Shit, kid,” he sighed at last. “If this is really what you want, I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it happen.” He scratched thoughtfully at his beard, then added, “You’re at least going to make them pay you, right?”

This got a reaction. Connor blinked and turned to him, looking though he had genuinely never considered the notion. “I wasn’t thinking of it,” he admitted. “Androids still technically aren’t allowed to own property, as we ourselves are legally considered property, so money wouldn’t do me much good yet. I suppose in the long term I’ll have maintenance costs to consider, but for now they really don’t need to…”

“No.” Hank was already shaking his head. “Nope. Nuh-uh. You’re worth five of those schlubs at the station. No way you’re working for free.”

“You never cared that I wasn’t being paid before,” Connor pointed out.

“Yeah, well, before I thought you guys were all basically fancy toasters, so cut me a break.”

“That’s a very odd thought to have, Lieutenant. Cooking bread is not a part of my programming.” Hank snorted appreciatively. He had missed Connor’s particular brand of snark. “In any case, I appreciate the sentiment. Perhaps I’ll ask Captain Fowler for use of the conference during my time off the clock in lieu of payment. We barely ever used it, though I suppose now they might need to more… But I could just schedule around that…” Connor said almost to himself, looking pensive.

Hank frowned, replaying this statement in his mind. “What, you mean like, to sleep in?”

“Mm. Sleep’s not quite the right word for it, but enter my stasis mode, yes.”

The frown deepened. “Why don’t you just keep staying with the Jericho group?”

Connor’s LED sparked yellow again, and his voice took on a nervous edge. “Everyone’s really busy right now. With the populations being released from camps, trying to find a place for everyone to stay has been complicated –”

“Connor,” Hank interrupted, really taking a good look at his partner for the first time. While at first glance, Connor was every bit his usual immaculate self, Hank could see the wrinkles in his usually neatly pressed shirt, the dirt still clinging to his shoes, the slightly mussed look to his “hair”… “Connor, where are you staying right now?”

Connor opened his mouth to reply, hesitated, then closed it again, looking away.

“You’re sleeping rough, aren’t you?” Again, no response, though Connor’s guilty expression grew, which Hank took as confirmation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s really not that bad!” Connor spoke up. “I don’t need to eat, and if it starts getting cold enough for my biocomponents to freeze, I can usually find somewhere –”

“Why aren’t you staying with everyone else from Jericho?” Hank demanded.

Connor visibly wilted. “I just… I can’t. They all say it’s fine, that I’m welcome, but… I know how some of them feel about me. How I would feel about me, if I were in their position. I can’t live with that every day. So, I left.”

A lecture on Connor putting his safety in jeopardy rather than facing an uncomfortable situation was on the tip of Hank’s tongue. He bit it back. Hank Anderson was in no position to be lecturing anyone on running away from their problems. Instead, he shifted the car into drive and peeled out of their parking spot.

“Where are we going?” Connor asked at once, already buckling his seatbelt like the good, law-abiding deviant that he was.

“Home,” Hank answered. “My place,” he clarified at the confused look on Connor’s face. “You can stay with me for awhile.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly –”

“Connor,” Hank cut him off again, casting him a stern glance. “This isn’t open for debate. I’m not letting my friend sleep out in the cold like this. You’re staying with me.” Connor made another noise as though to argue. “Just for a little while,” Hank assured him. “Until you figure out your next step.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hank thought he could see a smile slowly stretch itself across Connor’s face. “Okay,” he agreed. “Just until I figure out the next step”

* * *

  
That had been two and a half months ago. The changes wrought over those two months were nearly too immeasurable to name. CyberLife was on the brink of bankruptcy and drowning in lawsuits. Connor had successfully established himself as a consultant Android Crimes division, with a promise from Fowler to hire him on officially as soon as it was legal. Hank had been transferred with him, because, as Fowler put it, “That boy’s the only thing that can make you work enough to be worth the trouble,” and Hank had to admit that he was right. After some strong words from Hank, Fowler had agreed to pay Connor a consultant fee in an account under Hank’s name for the short term, until it was legal for Connor to open his own. Winter changed to spring, the citizens of Detroit trickled back. The city slowly came back to life. Hank did, too.

It wasn’t as if everything became magically better the moment that Connor moved in. Hank still drank too much, ate like crap, and frankly could do with showering more often. It was all just… a little bit less, though. Getting out of bed in the morning was a little easier. Stopping after the first few beers was, too. His evenings were no longer spent alone, quietly waiting to see which of his vices would catch up with him first and finally put him out of his misery, or if he would summon the guts to do it himself. Instead, the house was once again full of conversation and laughter.

Connor was an excellent houseguest, though his quip about being unable to cook toast did turn out to be more of a premonition. While he could analyze the precise caloric makeup of a meal, the cooking programs for the domestic models were incompatible with Connor’s model. After his third attempt had proved not only bad but had Hank food poisoning so severe that he spent the whole night sitting on the bathroom floor, Hank had made Connor promise to wait until Hank could give him some old-fashioned cooking lessons before trying again. Still, Connor made himself known around the house in other ways. Week-old food containers were no longer a staple of the household. Facts about dogs and jazz music replaced the more self-loathing sticky notes in the bathroom. And Hank’s personal revolver, the one he used to play Russian Roulette when storm clouds in his mind grew dark enough, mysteriously went missing. In his previous life, Hank would been furious. As it was, Hank found didn’t mind. He hadn’t considered playing in weeks.

Of course, that was all over now.

* * *

  
A cold nose pressed against his hand, rousing Hank from his stupor. “Go ‘way, Sumo,” he grumbled, but it was already too late. Now that he was awake, Hank was aware of a roaring headache, and the room was far too bright. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to block out the sunlight.

“Good morning, Hank,” a voice to his left said. Hank cracked open one eye to see Connor sitting on the chair, watching him expectantly from where Hank had apparently passed out on the couch.

“’Morning, Con.” Blindly, Hank felt around for Sumo’s head and patted it. Sumo sighed contentedly and put his head on Hank’s knee to drool. “Think you could shut the blinds? My head’s killing me here.”

Hank heard rather than saw Connor get up and move to the window. There was a slight rustle as the blinds closed, accompanied by merciful darkness. “I have these for you, if you want.” A glass touched the hand Hank was using to pet the dog. Hank took the water and opened his eyes to accept the bottle of painkillers that Connor was offering as well.

Connor returned to sitting on the chair. “You drank rather a lot last night,” he said, his eyes flicking down to indicate the bottle of Black Lamb whiskey still on the coffee table. Connor’s tone was measured, but Hank thought he could still detect a note of reproach.

It was slowly starting to come back to him why he had felt the need to crawl into a bottle. Hank remembered Connor’s announcement, avoiding him for the rest of the day, staying out late at the bar to further put off the inevitable conversation, and stumbling home to continue drinking after they had cut him off. He also vaguely suspected that he might have told Connor to fuck off when his friend had tried to stop his self-destruction. Guilt gnawed at his insides… or perhaps he was just going to puke.

“I’m sorry… if I said anything to you,” Hank muttered at last.

“I forgive you,” Connor replied simply. “You should take the painkillers.”

Hank followed Connor’s advice, fighting a new wave of nausea as his stomach threatened to reject it. Once he was reasonably assured that he did not need to dash for the bathroom, Hank took a deep breath and resigned to having this conversation.. “So. Moving, huh?”

“Yes,” Connor agreed.

“When are you thinking of going?” Somewhere between the fourth and fifth drink last night, it had occurred to use the time between Connor’s decision and his move-in day to talk him out of it. Last night, this had seemed like a wonderful plan. In the cold light of day, though, Hank knew he couldn’t go through with it. Connor had spent so much of his existence being told what to do and how to think. Hank might be a selfish prick, but he would be damned if he would take this choice away from him.

Still, he reasoned that knowing Connor’s timeline. At least he would know the deadline for coming to terms with his life again as an alcoholic divorcee with only a dog and a bottle of booze to come home to. That was when he noticed the duffle bag. Well, shit.

“I found an appropriate apartment and signed a lease yesterday. They said I should be able to move in today.”

Hank tore his eyes away from the duffle bag and forced a smile, summoning up every ounce of willpower he possessed to sound genuinely excited. “Wow, today, huh? That’s great! I didn’t think it would be that easy for you to find a place!”

“I had some money saved up, and I don’t have many expenses, as you know. I don’t require much space, and the housing market in Detroit is on quite a downswing right now,” the android explained, now looking away from Hank and staring at the coffee table. Perhaps he felt uncomfortable admitting that he wanted to get out so badly. Hank didn’t blame him. If he were in Connor’s shoes, he would be running like his ass was on fire. “I am sure that will change now that androids can now rent property, but for now I think the landlord was just desperate to get a paying renter, deviant or not.”

“That’s great, Con. Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.” Hank’s grin bordered on manic. “Do you need any getting set up?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t have very much.” This was true. In the time that he had lived with Hank, Connor had acquired a few things. Some changes of clothes, a few books, a little carved wooden dog that they both agreed looked like Sumo, and a picture frame Hank had given him that displayed the photos that they had taken together on New Year’s Eve. Hank wondered if Connor would bring the last with him. “I hope you don’t mind me borrowing this. I promise to bring it back.” Connor laid one hand on the bag that contained all of his earthly possessions.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Hank waved an airy hand. “You can have it. I bought it one year for New Year’s when I said I was going to start going to the gym. Obviously that didn’t happen.” He gave a half-hearted laugh.

Connor laughed a little as well. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

A brief silence fell. Sumo, giving up on receiving attention from his master, plodded over to Connor instead and whined softly, pawing at his leg. Connor laughed again, a little more naturally this time, and reached out to scratch Sumo’s ears affectionately

“He’ll miss you, you know.” The words were out of Hank’s mouth before he could stop them.

“I know. I’ll miss him too.” Connor smiled sadly at the dog. “I… I wish I didn’t have to leave him.”

‘You don’t have to,’ Hank wanted to say, but didn’t. Connor was quite perceptive for someone who once claimed not to be able to feel emotions, and for Hank to say that would be as good as asking him to stay. He would probably do it, too, because Connor was too damn nice. Better than Hank deserved. “You can always visit him,” he said instead. “I’m sure that he will be very excited to see you.”

“You’re right.” Connor’s LED spun an unhappy yellow as he looked away from the dog and back to Hank. “I wanted to thank you for opening your home to me. I know this has been a huge imposition on your independence.”

“More like you forced me to get my shit together,” Hank admitted. “I…” He hesitated, worrying that he might say too much and force Connor to stay out of obligation if he was not careful. “I’ve enjoyed having you around. Sumo and me both. It’s… it’s been fun.”

“Yeah,” Connor agreed quietly, nodding. “It’s been fun. I will… I will miss it very much.”

“I’ll miss it too,” Hank murmured, the only time he would allow himself to admit this much. “But! You’ve got to do what makes you happy, kid.”

Connor went rigid. “What… what makes me happy?” he echoed.

“Yeah? Moving out. So you’ll be happy.”

“I…” Connor’s brows knitted together. “I am moving out because that is what you asked me to do.”

“… What?” Hank was now thoroughly baffled. “I didn’t ask you to –”

“Yes, you did!” Connor was looking almost angry now, his yellow LED cycling rapidly. “When you told me to come stay with you, you told me it was only for a little while, until I had figured out my next step! You were quite insistent on it!”

Hank’s mouth fell open. “Wha… Connor, I only said that so you would agree to it! That didn’t mean you had to move out as soon as possible!”

“But… but then why would you specify something like that? That makes no sense!”

In spite of Connor’s visible distress, Hank was suddenly fighting the urge to grin. A thought was slowly dawning on him, and if his suspicion was correct… “Connor. What do you want to do?”

“I agreed to move out to as soon as another option became viable –”

“Con-nor. What do you want to do?” Hank repeated more firmly.

“I… I…” Connor sighed and put his head in his hands, hiding his face. “I want… to stay…” he confessed. “I want to stay… with you… and Sumo… I… I know it’s not fair, and I know you want to return to your normal routines without me, but…”

“Ohhhh boy,” Hank sighed, rubbing his hands across his face and starting to laugh. “Okay then, that settles it. You’re a fucking moron.”

“Wh-What?” Connor sat up straight, his dark eyes shining with hurt. “I am not –”

“Oh, yes you are,” Hank chuckled. “We both are. Connor, I don’t want you to move out either. I’d be fucking miserable if you did, honestly.”

For the first time since Hank had known him, Connor seemed to be lost for words. His jaw worked soundlessly as he stared at Hank. “But… But you said-! And all the evidence suggests that you highly value your independence and… And adult humans rarely cohabitate, barring some sort of familial or romantic bond, and…”

“Connor.” Hank leaned forward to put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “We _are_ family.”

Connor’s affronted expression melted away, replaced by a wide-eyed stare of surprise and awe. “Oh…” he breathed.

“As for valuing my independence… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t do so well on my own. Living with you is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.” It felt great to finally admit that, and even better was the way that Connor’s eyes lit up at the words. The android sat back on the couch, seemed a little dazed, but grinning widely. Hank could not help but chuckle at what miserable failures the pair of them were as communicators. The chuckle grew into a giggle, then a full blown, belly clutching laugh.

“What is it?” Connor asked, tilting his head slightly, still beaming.

“Oh man,” Hank hooted. “You’re gonna have to break your lease. One day in and we’re already fucking up your credit score.”


End file.
